


the kings are dead (long live the queens)

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [90]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breathplay, Choking, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Celebrates Black Women, Femslash February Trope Bingo, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot is sleeping with the fishes, and pieces of Edward Nygma are scattered across four of the six garbage dumps that surround Gotham.For Barbara and Tabitha, it's time to celebrate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> takes place just after 3x14. written for the 'free' square on my Femslash February bingo card! Tabitha/Butch is mentioned briefly.

Somewhere in the fetid, oil-streaked depths of Gotham Bay, Oswald Cobblepot is sleeping with the fishes, courtesy of a strong dose of unrequited love and a bullet to the stomach.

Pieces of Edward Nygma are scattered across four of the six garbage dumps that litter the surrounding countryside, courtesy of his insolence and a series of deep cuts. 

The criminal underworld is in one hell of a tizzy, thanks to both of the above.

It's the best night Barbara's had in years.

It's just after midnight. Wild bolts of lightning are streaking across Gotham's pitch-black sky, and the club is packed with warm bodies and clinking glasses. Leaning back into the sofa resting on the slightly raised platform at the back of the club, she takes a sip of her martini and uses her other hand to zoom in on the gloriously hi-res image Tabitha texted her earlier in the night. Much of the image is of pavement awash in crimson, but there's a dismembered arm stretching into the middle of the frame, clad in a pinstriped suit that Barbara still recognizes, even sodden in blood and gore. A pair of horn-rimmed glasses with shattered lenses rest at the very edge of frame, the earpieces twisted and cracked. 

The image quality is high enough that she thinks she could blow the picture up and frame it without distorting it too badly. It would look marvelous hanging in the empty space just above her bed.

When she glances up, it's just in time to see the crowd part around Tabitha, who strides forward and drops onto the couch, right at Barbara's side. She's changed from her customary all-leather get-up to a deep blue dress that is a little more refined but no less clingy. Her skin has been scrubbed clean of blood, but when Barbara breathes deeply, she can still smell the aura of it floating around Tabitha's lethal and talented hands, which are now clutching a martini glass to match Barbara's. 

"Admirable handiwork," Barbara says, tapping her cellphone before she slides it back in her clutch. "I didn't think you'd be back so early." 

"Butch is taking care of clean-up," Tabitha replies and, for one brief, flickering moment, something that almost resembles _fondness_ flickers across her dark eyes. 

Barbara just barely bites back a gag. 

"Well then!" she says instead, knocking back the rest of her martini. "We should celebrate before we have to get back to work. How's your hand, by the way?" For the first few weeks after Nygma lopped it off, Tabitha's hand had been wrapped in a cumbersome brace, and her insistence on not taking painkillers had resulted in far too many bitten back groans whenever she pushed herself too hard, whenever the sutures yanked against her skin. The brace and stitches have both been gone for some time, but Barbara is pretty sure the pain is still lingering. 

That doesn't stop Tabitha from moving like a blur and wrapping said hand around Barbara's throat. The junction between her thumb and forefinger presses in and up, cutting off Barbara's air supply in one fell swoop. Barbara's lips fall open and she sucks in an ineffective gasp, one that travels no further than the back of her throat. Tabitha's thumb shifts and digs into the side of her neck, and her sharp nail scrapes viciously against Barbara's skin. Patches of black fireworks begin to flash in front of Barbara's eyes, and her parted lips turn into a grin as her fingers tighten on the stem of her glass. 

Her vision has narrowed down to twin pinpoints of light by the time Tabitha lets go. The sounds of the room flood her ears just as warm air floods her aching lungs and throbbing throat. Reflexively, she coughs a few times before she reaches out and grabs Tabitha's drink from her hand and takes a gulp. 

"I guess that answers my question," she says once she's passed it back. She takes a quick glance out at the crowd mingling around the platform and is met with half a dozen alarmed gazes. Considering the number of people crowded around them, it's an impressively low number, although she isn't exactly surprised; the citizenry of Gotham seem to have a tendency to ignore any bizarre event that doesn't involve outright slaughter in the streets. She simply stares down each of them with a raised eyebrow and dazzling smirk until they all move or avert their eyes. Only then does she turn back to Tabitha, who is gently flexing the fingers of her hand. 

"Feel up to doing that again?" Barbara rasps, reaching out and trailing her nail down Tabitha's middle finger. She barely makes it to the second knuckle before Tabitha flips her hand around, wraps her fingers around Barbara's, and yanks her over until she's nearly perched in Tabitha's lap. 

"Your room or mine?" she asks, running her hand up Barbara's arm. Barbara grins sharply as she leans in, until her lips are brushing just above Tabitha's ear. 

"Both. And then we can come back down here, once all of these idiots have cleared out." 

Tabitha gets to her feet so quickly that she nearly knocks Barbara over, but before she can regain her balance, they start moving towards the stairs leading to their rooms, Tabitha in the lead, Barbara following along and snatching a tumbler of amber liquid from a drunk customer as they shove by him. 

As the strong liquid sears down her bruised throat, she thinks of how much work they'll be in for tomorrow, now that there's nothing between them and control of the entire criminal underworld, and she buries another grin in the rim of the glass. 

This is officially the best night she's ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
